Morpheus's Choice
by HeroismInACan
Summary: "Alfred Jones stood awkwardly in the posh elevator of Olympus Heights with a toolbox in his left palm and a crumpled sheet of paper in his other. He didn't fit in, especially not with his dirty work uniform and grease-stained boots." USUK. Location and themes from BioShock. Complete.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **I do not own the characters, Alfred and Arthur, nor the locations and problems borrowed from BioShock.

**Characters:** Alfred Jones (America) and Arthur Kirkland (England)

**Chapter Specific Warnings: **None

**Author's Notes: **I didn't take much from BioShock except for the location and the problems revolving around Plasmid use and ADAM. This is, in no way, related to the actual story line of the game.

I will be posting a new chapter each week (on Friday) until all of them are up.

Morpheus is the god of dreams.

The cover image for this piece was drawn by me. You can check it out on my DeviatART page. There's a link to it on my profile.

Thanks for reading.

* * *

_Rapture – 1949_

Alfred Jones stood awkwardly in the posh elevator of Olympus Heights with a toolbox in his left palm and a crumpled sheet of paper in his other. He didn't fit in, especially not with his dirty work uniform and grease-stained boots. He did a double take at the walls after noticing that the wallpaper wasn't peeling, but the real surprise was that the elevator worked at all to begin with. He was so used to the shoddy contraptions that were constantly breaking down in Pauper's Drop that anything this nice was almost enough to cause a heart attack.

He'd always forget that nice places existed in this city. It was a shame he couldn't afford an upgrade.

Alfred himself was an occupant of the slums of Rapture. He lived in an apartment with five other families, and he only owned three different outfits: his work outfit, his second work outfit, and his third work outfit. He lived a dangerous life as one of the city's, easily replaceable, engineers.

The reason he was here at all in the nicest apartments the city had to offer was because he'd gotten a call about a leak. That was something that called for immediate attention, and Alfred was the first available to take the job. It was a small thing, this leak, but it was enough to make everyone worry. Any leak in an underwater city was enough to cause a fuss.

He exited the elevator when it opened to his floor and headed down the hallway. He glanced down at the paper he'd scribbled on that told him the apartment number, and looked up just in time to see the one he needed. He nearly missed it, but he halted in time and turned, reaching a hand out to press the button on the side of the door.

Alfred knew nothing about the occupant of this particular room, but he never went into a job knowing much other than about the problem itself. That was all that mattered.

The young man shifted from foot to foot, shoving the piece of paper into the front of his uniform as he waited for the door to slide open. Just as he was about to think the resident wasn't home, the metal contraption slid open.

A man looking to be in his early-to-mid-twenties stood in the doorway, looking somewhat disheveled. His blond hair was a mess atop his head, and his eyes were wide with confusion when they landed on the engineer. Alfred saw the pupils dart down to the front of his uniform before flickering back to his face.

"You must be here about the leak," the man nodded his head as if he were answering himself. There was a thick European accent on his tongue. The man was probably from somewhere in the British Isles, but Alfred couldn't tell. He wasn't very good with that sort of thing.

The young engineer gave him an affirming nod, "Sure am."

The occupant of the apartment moved out of the doorway to allow the worker entrance. "That was fast."

Alfred heard him chuckle as he stepped passed and into the nice apartment. It was more glamorous than he'd ever imagined. In fact, this particular room seemed to be nicer than the few other ones in Olympus Heights that Alfred had worked on. He must have been in the home of someone truly special, but he should've figured as much. This apartment was on one of the higher floors, and the higher you go the more important you are.

"The leak is this way," the other man made a hand motion and led the engineer into the master bedroom. He continued idle chatter as they walked, probably to keep the air from falling silent. "It's probably not as bad as I think it is, but I'd rather be safe than sorry." From the bedroom they entered the bathroom, which was where Alfred noticed one of the walls was damp from water. Luckily, it wasn't a leak in the glass separating the breathing air from the cold Atlantic Ocean. A simple leak, which the engineer hoped was simple, like this was no big deal.

"I can't help but be a little paranoid," the gentleman laughed again, eyes planted firmly on the leak.

"Oh, I know all about being paranoid, sir," Alfred smiled numbly. He had to worry about freezing to death in the cold, oceanic waters, or boiling to death in steaming fluids. On top of that, he had to worry about drowning, being electrocuted, or even shot for God's sake. "This leak here won't be a problem."

"You know that just by looking at it?" The other man raised a thick eyebrow, obviously not quite believing that the engineer could tell that this was no problem just by staring at the damp wall.

Alfred turned to face him, "I fix leaks all the time. Just be thankful it ain't a hole in the glass panes of your window." He placed his toolbox on the floor near the problem and knelt on one knee.

"That would be quite the problem," the other man said, though more so to himself rather than Alfred. "Will you have to cut a hole in my wall?" He paused briefly, "Will there be a guy to come and fix that, too? A gaping hole in my bathroom would just make me uncomfortable."

Alfred was stricken with surprise by the bombardment of questions, but he answered them with a chuckle. "Yes, I'm gonna have to cut a hole in your wall, sir." How else was he going to fix the leak? "As for knowing a guy to fix that, well, you're looking at him. When you work in Rapture, you need to know how to do multiple things. I'm quite the handyman." He offered a grin, and then flicked open his toolbox to get to work. "If I can narrow the leak, I can make a small hole and fix it with no problem," he explained so the other man would know what was going on.

He saw the gentleman nod his head in understanding, but he didn't leave the bathroom. Instead he remained standing there, eyes fixated on the dampened wall, and arms crossed over his chest.

Alfred thought nothing of it, probably him just being paranoid that he might steal something, and immediately began working.

Not even two minutes after the engineer started narrowing the leak did the resident start talking again. "Pardon me, I've been terribly rude. My name is Arthur Kirkland. I appreciate you coming out here to fix this despite how minor of a problem it probably is."

Alfred leaned away from the wall, looking at the other man. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Kirkland, and no leak is classified as a minor problem."

Arthur started to laugh, "call me Arthur, please. If I wanted to be addressed as Mr. Kirkland I would have told you that." He had a bizarre smile on his face once the laughter died down, and he leaned his shoulder against the nearest wall. He remained quiet for a long moment before it dawned on him. "Oh, I should probably let you get to work. My apologies—" his eyebrows furrowed and a frown creased his lips, "I don't believe I got your name."

"It's Alfred Jones," the engineer smiled politely, and then turned back to the wall, "and I would appreciate it if I could get this done. It's just getting worse the longer I ignore it."

"Right, right. I apologize again for keeping you. Shout if you need anything," Arthur sent the young man an apologetic smile before he moved for the door. Alfred didn't catch the flicker of green that flashed to his backside, taking in the view before Arthur finally dashed out. The engineer was too busy getting his work done so the problem wouldn't get any worse.

* * *

Alfred exited the bathroom with his toolbox in hand, eyes darting about in search for the occupant of this apartment. He saw him sitting at a desk with papers spread about, and only looked up when the engineer spoke, "Mr. Kirkland? The leak's all taken care of. I'll have to come back tomorrow morning to fix up the hole, though. What time would be best for you?"

"Please, call me Arthur. None of the formalities. I deal with that on a daily basis already," Arthur corrected as he rose from the desk. He walked to the young man and nodded his head. "I'm sure I can handle a little hole for the night. I'll just pray that I don't have to use the facilities often," he laughed. "Whenever you're free would do nicely. I'll be here all morning."

Alfred smiled, "all right. Does seven sound good?"

"Seven sounds perfect," Arthur answered quickly. He seemed to notice what he did, and Alfred saw his cheeks turn a shade of pink. He cleared his throat before matching the engineer's smile, "how much do I owe you?"

"Don't worry about that right now. Wait until I fix that hole in there," Alfred pointed in the direction of the bathroom. "My job ain't done just yet."

"Right. Well, see you in the morning at seven o'clock sharp, Alfred."

The young man gave a mock salute before exiting the high-class apartment and heading for the elevator at the end of the hall. He had a few other jobs to do in this same area, but while he'd be working on those he'd be thinking of the strange man whose apartment he just left.

Arthur Kirkland came off as an odd character, but something about him struck the engineer in a memorable way.

* * *

The next morning the engineer returned to Arthur's apartment at seven o' clock on the dot. He came in and got straight to work, but Arthur lingered in the bathroom today. Not that Alfred cared if he stuck around. It was nice to have some conversation while he worked. Most of the people he helped weren't as nice as this.

"So, you've patched many holes?" Arthur chuckled, but, when he realized how silly of a question he had just asked, he started to sound nervous. He cleared his throat to change the subject, "how long have you worked here? You seem to know your stuff, Alfred."

"Yeah, I've patched many holes in my lifetime. Every time I make one I have to fix it, you know?" The young man laughed, stealing a glance at the other. "I've worked here since Rapture became habitable. I came here thinking that I was going to make something of myself, become a grand name that people knew and loved, but what I got was a life threatening job and a home in the slums."

Once the engineer realized what he had said, his face lost a little color. He cleared his throat and swallowed the lump in his throat. He changed the topic, "I learned everything I knew from my father, and when I came here I was put under another engineer's wing to further my knowledge. Things are a little different when you're down under, huh?" He smiled, pretending that he'd said nothing about his disappointment of coming down to this awful city. "Well, looks like I'm all done patching up your wall. Once it dries, I'll paint it so it matches the rest."

The young man was grateful that Arthur played along with the subject change. "Plumber, wall-fixer-upper, and painter. Is there anything you can't do?" He smiled as his eyes skimmed over the other man's handy work. "Despite gifted hands, I don't think my talents go that far. Certainly without men such as yourself Rapture wouldn't be standing."

"I suppose you're right. We built Rapture, and we keep her running, too." Alfred rose to his feet, wiping his hands on a rag he pulled from the back pocket of his work uniform. He had a feeling that Arthur was trying to make him feel better about himself, which was a nice gesture, but he couldn't help but smile solemnly. "You know, I'm sure if you were taught how to do some simple things you could manage, but your hands are too delicate."

It seemed that Arthur wanted to say something, but instead his eyes flickered to the engineer's hands. Before Alfred could say anything, the gentleman spoke up, "I suppose I should pay you now?"

The young man nodded his head and informed the other of the amount, which he paid right away. Alfred pocketed the money and looked to the wall he'd just fixed. "I can come back in a couple of hours to paint if that works for you."

"Yes, that works quite well," the owner of the apartment nodded his head, and then led the engineer from the bathroom to the front door where he saw him out. "Take care, Alfred."

"You too, Arthur. See you in a few hours."

* * *

A week later, Alfred received a call about an electrical problem out in Olympus Heights. He was the go-to when it came to such problems, considering, for the sake of his job, he'd given in to Plasmids. The consumption of ADAM he knew was dangerous territory. He saw what it was capable of, but he did it anyway.

The engineer came walking down that familiar hallway, spotting the owner of the particular room that had had the problem sitting outside of it. As he grew closer, he couldn't help but smile as he recognized the familiar face of Arthur Kirkland. "You have this knack for breaking things, don't you?"

"Don't make that sound like it's such a bad thing," the gentleman laughed, a strange smile spreading on his lips. Apparently that was code for something, but Alfred was too dense to understand.

"Right, well, let's get this problem fixed up, shall we?" the engineer turned his gaze to the door, waiting for it to open, until he realized what the door ran off of—electricity. So, instead, he placed his toolbox down and grabbed the door, prying it open with minimal difficulty. He held it open for Arthur to slip through, and he kicked his toolbox in after. Only when the other man grabbed hold of the door to allow him in did he slip through just in time. The door slammed shut, and left both men in the dark.

Alfred fished out his flashlight and flicked it on, "so what happened exactly to make the power go out, do you know?"

"All I did was plug in something to the wall and it went out."

Alfred nodded his head, "this'll be an easy fix then, and luckily I shouldn't have to make any holes in your wall." He glanced toward the other man, smiling despite the lack of light, and headed for the breaker box. Once he located it, he pulled the door open and looked around with his flashlight. A fuse had blown, so he pulled a replacement from his toolbox and decided that some extra juice would help kick start the electricity in here.

He took a step back and held out his left hand. Sparks of electricity escaped from his fingertips and lit up the room. The breaker box danced with life, and the lights flickered on. He turned off his flashlight and looked to the other man, a lopsided grin on his face, "all set."

"Bloody hell, Alfred," Arthur exclaimed, shock clear in his voice. "I'm not quite used to seeing Plasmids in action just yet." He laughed nervously as he straightened his form.

"I suppose I should have warned you first," Alfred smiled apologetically.

"Quite fine, don't worry much about it," Arthur reassured before paying the man. "You never cease to amaze me, Alfred. You really can fix anything."

"Apparently I'm full of many surprises to you, but I bet you've got your share of them too," Alfred grinned and headed for the door, toolbox in hand, but stopped and looked at Arthur. "Since you seem to have a lot of things breaking on you, give me a call personally next time. I have my own phone in my apartment despite sharing the place with others." Besides, any money he earned on his own time went straight into his pocket rather than being split with his boss. He preferred personal contracts for that very reason.

The young man reached into the pocket of his trousers and removed a slip of paper, asking for a pen from the other. When he got one, he wrote down his number and handed both the paper and the pen to Arthur.

"I'll be sure to give you a call, Alfred. Take care."

"You too."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Specific Warnings: **Mention of mature activities and brief bad acting

**Author's Notes: **Finally, the story starts to get somewhere. And, as I said I would, I am updating on Friday. The third chapter will be up next Friday, the 1st of August. The image for this story I created, and can be found on my DeviantART page. There's a link to my dA on my profile.

Thanks for reading.

* * *

"Could you hand me that wrench?" Alfred held out a hand, and when he felt the cold metal of the tool in his palm his fingers tightened around it. "Thanks." He went back to work, which was his attempt of trying to retrieve a ring that fell down the drain of the bathroom sink.

"No problem," Arthur nodded from his perch atop the closed toilet seat.

The engineer had noticed the recent increase of things breaking in this particular apartment. It wasn't like his phone was ringing off the hook, but it sure felt like it once everything was added up. By this point, Alfred had a sure feeling that Arthur was simply busting things just for the sake of calling him and getting him to come over. He saw those lingering stares and odd smiles. He knew what was up, or at least had an idea of what was up.

After a few long minutes, Alfred rose from below the sink with the piece of jewelry between his fingers. "Got it," he grinned, and passed the ring over to the owner who eagerly accepted it.

Arthur examined the piece with a smile of his own. "You are indeed a master at what you do. Thank you."

"I gotta say though, Arthur, you sure do live in the apartment from hell. Seems that every other day I'm coming over here to fix something broken or retrieve something that fell down a sink drain. I'm starting to think that you're doing this on purpose." He gave the gentleman an accusing stare, but softened the seriousness of it with a smile.

Arthur's face seemed to go pale from the accusation, which was how the engineer knew that he really _had_ been sabotaging things in his own home. Not that he could complain. He enjoyed coming over here. He had learned a great deal about Arthur as a person, like the fact that he was born and raised in England and was a Rapture-famous musician and composer. He was a few steps below Sander Cohen. It also got him away from the slums, and it was direct money into his pocket. It was a win-win. Although, even with this extra income, he couldn't afford an apartment here. Not even on the lowest floor. He probably never could.

Avoiding the topic of busting things on purpose, Arthur laughed timidly, "I'm just lucky to have you here to make this hell more tolerable."

The engineer simply smiled before asking, "you got anything else that needs fixing before I pack up?"

"Actually—" Arthur started.

The engineer waited to see if the other would continue, and when he didn't he raised an eyebrow. "Actually?" he prompted.

It seemed that the gentleman couldn't find the right words to say. He remained quiet for a long moment, chewing on his lower lip in thought. Without any notice, he stepped forward and leaned up, pressing his lips against Alfred's. His hands rested firmly upon broad shoulders.

The Engineer was caught off guard, but he didn't mind it. He wasn't exactly a straight player for either team, so the fact that another man was kissing him wasn't an issue. In fact, he didn't have an issue at all with this situation.

The young man was about to return the embrace when Arthur retreated backyards.

He started to shake his head with a frown before mumbling, "I'm sorry. That was uncalled for, I know. I shouldn't have done it. I don't even know if—"

Alfred silenced the other man by reconnecting their lips. It worked to get him to shut his mouth. He brought his hands up, cupping the gentleman's face, and deepened the exchange of saliva. Now tongues were involved.

A chuckle from Arthur broke apart this particular kiss, and, when Alfred looked at him with an eyebrow raised, he explained, "does my bed have to break first before I can get you into it?"

Alfred laughed, "well, I can tell you right now that fixing beds isn't my specialty." He moved his strong hands to rest on the hips of the musician, a coy smile twisting his lips. "So things breaking mysteriously around here really was just you, huh?"

"Guilty," Arthur smiled sheepishly.

The engineer shook his head with a considerable grin, "I knew it."

"You knew it? I thought I had done well with covering my tracks," Arthur pretended to appear appalled, but the façade melted into a playful smile. He took Alfred's hands into his own, feeling the abrasive, callused skin, and led him to the bedroom.

"Hey, I got a question," Alfred spoke once they passed the threshold into the master room.

"Yes?" Arthur had already started undoing his button-up shirt.

"This ain't just gonna be a one-night stand, is it?" His expression was serious. A stark contrast to the lively banter that was previously displayed.

The gentleman stopped mid button and met gazes with the engineer, confusion spreading on his face. "You think I went through all of this trouble of breaking countless home appliances just to have you for one night? Heavens no. I had the intentions of you coming back. Otherwise, I'd have to continue breaking things. I'd have to start getting creative then."

Alfred couldn't help but ask. It wasn't like he knew Arthur exceptionally well, and for all he knew this effort _could've_ been just for the sake of a fling. But, judging by how the other man reacted, he assumed it to be genuine enough and accepted it. He wasn't going to start complaining, but he would remain partially skeptical. Why would a rich, successful man like Arthur be interested in a poor engineer? He didn't bother voicing his questions. "I'd like to see what sort of things you'd come up with," Alfred admitted with a smile.

"Are you _trying_ to turn this into a bad porno?" Arthur laughed as he pushed Alfred down onto the bed. He straddled the engineer's lap and began to undo his work uniform. Once it was off enough to see some skin, Arthur leaned down and pressed soft kisses to the exposed neck. A wicked smile then formed on his lips. "Oh dear, it seems that I've misplaced my wallet. How will I ever pay you? And the way you handled those pipes, wow." With a laugh, the gentleman shook his head and ceased his bad acting before it got any worse.

Alfred kept it going though. "That's a damn shame that you lost your wallet, but how about we make a trade? You let me handle _your _pipe and we'll forget about the pay," the engineer winked to add effect, but broke into a boisterous laugh at how ridiculous both of them were being. He reached up and pulled Arthur to him, closing their lips together in a short-lived embrace.

Both men were still laughing by that point, and it was obvious Arthur was nearly out of breath when he wheezed out, "I think that's a fine arrangement."

The undressing continued until there were no obstructions between them.

Arthur's eyes took in Alfred as a whole now, apparently pleased by what he saw. The engineer was a well-built man. He slimmed down in the waist, but his arms, legs, and torso showed off the brilliant power he possessed. The only flaw, however, was the faint signs of Plasmid use. Popping veins and light skin discoloration spider webbed over his left arm, the one he'd shoot up with the acidic liquid. It was only the beginning stages, but it was still a start to what would soon become a major deformity and a major problem.

The engineer knew that the disfigurements on his body were unappealing, and he also realized that they were worse than the last time he had looked.

He didn't want to think about that. He didn't want to lose his mind like everyone else who tried this stuff, but it wasn't like he was abusing it. He used it wisely and carefully, and not having money to afford his next power up helped too.

Despite the unattractiveness of the side effects, Arthur didn't seem to mind.

* * *

When morning came, Alfred woke with a start. He'd nearly forgotten where he was, but then he remembered and settled back into the plush bed and feathered pillows. That was the best sleep he'd ever gotten, and he felt good waking up instead of stiff and sore. Well, he felt stiff for other reasons. It wasn't the bedding that caused that.

The engineer glanced around the room briefly before a stirring caught his attention. He looked down to see Arthur curled at his side, head resting on one of his pectorals, and arms wound about his frame loosely. He leaned down and, with a smile, brushed his lips against the sleeping man's forehead.

That got the musician to wake.

Arthur shifted and opened his eyes, blinking rapidly to clear his tired vision. He glanced up to see the engineer smiling down at him, and he matched that smile. "What a way to wake up." He laughed airily and returned his head to rest on Alfred's chest, using one of his fingers to trace the veins on the spliced limb.

Alfred watched him, but didn't say anything.

They remained in bed like that for a good thirty minutes, exchanging light kisses and laughs as they chatted quietly.

Then Arthur sat up suddenly and climbed out of bed. He appeared to have difficulty putting on his undergarments. "Before I forget—" and he left the room without saying anything else.

Alfred sat up by that point, staring after the other man as he waited for him to return. When he did finally walk back into view, he had something in his hands.

Arthur was smiling as he extended his hand out, giving a thick piece of rectangular paper to the engineer. "It's a ticket to my newest show. I was hoping you'd go," he smiled sheepishly before adding, "this was my original plan of wooing you, by the way."

"A piece of paper was your plan to woo me? How charming," Alfred joked, turning his eyes to the ticket so he could read what it said. After a long moment, he glanced to Arthur. But, just as he opened his mouth to say something, the musician butt in.

"Don't worry about what to wear. I already thought of that," and once again, Arthur dashed out of the bedroom. He returned shortly with another slip of paper in his hand, but this time it was shaped like a business card. He handed it to the engineer.

The young man took it, and his eyes read over the name printed on it. "Francis Bonnefoy?" Alfred read aloud, but judging from the look on Arthur's face he had butchered the pronunciation.

Arthur repeated it the proper way before explaining, "go to his store and give him my name. He'll take care of you, all right?"

When Alfred didn't say anything right away, Arthur crawled back into bed and put his hands on the engineer's shoulders. "Please, Alfred, it's important to me that you come."

After another long minute of consideration, Alfred finally nodded his head, "I'd love to go, Arthur."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter specific warnings: **None that need mention. I don't want to spoil anything.

**Author's Notes:** I know it may seem like it happened fast (what happens at the end), but some time did pass during all three of these chapters. So, when you actually look at it, it isn't all that quick.

The next chapter will be posted on the 8th of August.

The cover image for this piece was drawn by me, and can be found on my DeviantART page. There's a link to it on my profile.

Thanks for reading.

* * *

Finding the clothing store that Arthur instructed him to visit proved to be an easy task. The hard part was forcing himself to walk inside. Alfred was feeling nervous, and it felt like those butterflies fluttering around his stomach had started to gnaw at his insides. He stood in front of the establishment, staring at the displays in the window, for a good five minutes before he took a deep breath and pushed the door open.

The soft chime of a bell announced his arrival, and soon enough a man appeared from the back and hovered behind a counter. He stood with a perfect posture and held himself high, nose slightly turned to the ceiling as if he were someone important instead of just a clothing tailor. "Can I help you?" The accent was distinctly French.

"Uh, yes, I'm looking for a Francis Bonnefoy?" Alfred pronounced the name slowly and carefully.

"That would be me, but I don't recall calling for maintenance. I didn't think anything was broken." His eyes danced over the engineer, giving a look of distaste from the sight of the dirty uniform Alfred wore.

Alfred tried not to let that look unsettle him, and instead he explained, "Arthur Kirkland sent me for a suit."

Mr. Bonnefoy's eyes seemed to light up with recognition, "ah, yes. You must be Alfred then. Come, come." He put on a forced smile, but was at least was attempting to be friendly. He took Alfred into the back and began to look through suits, but that turned out to be a difficult task. The tailor was exceptionally picky, and it wasn't until an hour later that he finally settled on something that would fit the engineer the way he wanted.

Alfred was feeling out of place in this shop, but it was no different from when he was at Arthur's apartment.

While Mr. Bonnefoy fit the suit to the man, he started up some conversation to fill the air. "So, what happens when he gets bored with you?" His eyes flickered to Alfred's briefly before returning to his work. "I don't mean to pry, but he is an artist. You know how those types can be. They get bored quickly with their short attention spans. You may be his muse now, but it won't last forever." He shook his head with a chuckle, picking up a measuring tape. "Believe me, I've been around these people long enough to see how shallow they really are, and you seem like a good guy. I just want to warn you before you start to get comfortable."

The engineer hadn't expected the mild conversation to go this far South, but the words didn't surprise him. He supposed that the man had a good point. Artists_ were_ all over the place, he saw that strongly in Arthur, but he wouldn't get bored with him, would he? Why would the musician grab at his hopes just to throw them back into his face? Arthur seemed nicer than that, but then again he barely knew the guy. Alfred fixed his broken appliances and they had sex once, but did that mean much of an anything? Probably not.

"I know the dirt that I am, Mr. Bonnefoy. I'm a maintenance worker. I'm not worth much, and I know my place here already." He glanced at the other man, a dejected smile on his lips. "He may get bored with me at some point, but at least I had some good times before I was pushed back to the bottom, right? I deserve that much, or maybe I don't. I am no better than the dust that lines your shelves, and I'm sure _that_ dust doesn't deserve any fond memories."

The tailor looked to Alfred with surprise. Apparently, he hadn't expected that reaction from him. He cleared his throat and put on a smile, "maybe you are right about enjoying good times. And, who knows, maybe Arthur isn't like everyone else. He does seem to be a bit different from the others, doesn't he?" He patted the engineer on the shoulder before getting back to his work. He was almost done adjusting the suit.

"That man knows exactly what he wants, and that just might be you. Even the finest of things get dusty. You simply have to knock the dust off." Mr. Bonnefoy smiled again as he finished up after another couple of minutes. He took a step back and gave the engineer a glance from head-to-toe, "look at that, there's a fine gentleman under that dirt after all." He directed Alfred's attention to the full-length mirror.

He barely recognized himself in that suit, and he couldn't help but smile faintly. He really could clean up nicely, couldn't he?

He wondered how long he could manage to keep the dust off.

"You also won't be leaving my store in that filth you walked in wearing," the tailor shook his head, leaving the room for a few minutes. When he returned, he held a few sets of clothing in his arms. One was for leaving today, and the other few were for other occasions. He saw Alfred start to protest, but shushed him. "Don't fuss over these. They're overstock. When something breaks here, just come and fix it and we'll be even, okay?"

The engineer nodded his head dumbly. He was surprised by the change of heart this man had. The moment he walked in he was getting looks of disgust, now he was throwing free clothing at him and trying to make him look better. Maybe he was doing it out of pity.

"When you feel like going on a real date with him, you come back here and I'll fix you up free of charge." Mr. Bonnefoy added with a nod of the head. "Now, get changed into these and I'll pack everything up for you." He left one set of clothing behind as he left the room, going to the front where he folded everything neatly and packed it all into a bag. He rung up just the suit to charge Arthur for, and when the engineer came out dressed in fresh clothing the tailor stopped what he was doing. "Now that's a man someone can fall in love with. You look nice, Alfred."

The engineer smiled lightly, cheeks turning a shade of pink. He mumbled a 'thank you' as he passed the suit over to the tailor to fold.

* * *

A week later, Alfred found himself garbed in that exquisite suit and stepping into the theater to locate his seat. Fleet Hall was packed, and the engineer was kicking himself for not having come sooner.

Everywhere he looked, there was a board posted with the words _Morpheus's Choice_ and some silhouetted drawing of a man. That must have been the title of the piece.

The engineer was nervous about coming here tonight, but at least he looked presentable. It wasn't like when he entered the clothing store in his filthy work outfit. He actually looked like he fit in now, although Alfred knew that no matter what he'd never truly fit in with these people.

Even as he walked down the aisle he felt eyes upon him. He figured they were judgmental, as if they knew that deep down he was a poor man wearing a suit that he didn't buy.

Alfred sat down and fixed his gaze on the curtains clouding the stage. It was better not to let his own thoughts deprive him of this once-in-a-lifetime event he'd been lucky enough to attend. It dawned on him then that he didn't actually know that kind of instrument Arthur played. Or, at least, he didn't remember. He was sure that the man had told him.

Waiting for the show to begin felt like it took ages, but soon enough curtains drew back and the lights dimmed except for the ones onstage. Arthur was standing in the center, a microphone in front of him. He was smiling and looking around the crowd before he spoke. "I'd like to thank everyone for coming tonight. I have a special piece that I'm rather excited to share with you all. So, without further ado," he took a small bow before walking to his seat in the middle of the stage. He was dead center, and all the other musicians were situated around him in a half-circle.

Arthur picked up a violin from a case on the floor and got into position. He adjusted his music on the stand in front of him before he started playing. The opening melody was forlorn and drawn out, expressing the emotions of sorrow and yearning. Within a few minutes, the rest of the orchestra joined in, each playing their own parts, but it was obvious that Arthur was the focal point.

Alfred was astonished that the musician had composed this entire piece, which extended to about an hour and a half. Personally, he had never attended a show like this before, but he was glad that he had. Arthur had some amazing talent, at both composing and playing.

As soon as the show concluded, a roar of applause filled the theater. Apparently, Alfred wasn't the only one who was captivated by the music, but why would he be? Arthur was a famous musician down here. Everyone loved him.

Arthur said his thanks and goodnights before exiting the stage. The curtains drew closed, and the lights turned back on in the auditorium. Alfred rose from his seat and made his way out of the row and to the aisle. He wanted to see the musician, but he was sure that he wouldn't be allowed backstage so he settled for leaving the theater. He stood out in the lobby and leaned against a wall, watching as the people flocked by him.

"I'm glad to see that you came."

Alfred turned to look at the voice, and smiled when he saw that it was Arthur. He had found him rather quickly, which was a surprise. "I told you that I would."

"I know," the gentleman leaned up and pecked a kiss to the engineer's lips before taking his hands into his own. "Now, come on, you can tell me what you thought about the show while I pack up my violin. I wanted to make sure that I found you before you disappeared." He led Alfred back into the theater and to the stage. Once there, Arthur looked over the engineer with a smile that approved of what he saw. "You look handsome as always, Alfred, and I have to admit that it's nice to see you in something other than work clothes."

Alfred's cheeks flushed from the compliment, and he scratched the back of his head. "Thanks. It sure is weird seeing myself dressed like this, though." He laughed lightheartedly, taking a seat on a nearby stool while he watched Arthur pack away his instrument with care.

Once the violin was away, the musician looked to Alfred with an eyebrow raised, "so, what did you think?"

Alfred chewed on his lip as he tried to compose the right words to say. After a long minute, he came up with something that would suffice. "It was beautiful, Arthur. I'm stunned that you composed all of that. I'm glad my first experience seeing something like that was your creation. Makes it more special when you know the guy who put it all together." He chuckled again and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Though, I am guilty of mainly focusing on you. The others were nice, but I liked watching you play. You're really good."

"Thank you," Arthur's cheeks warmed to a faint pink. "Did you happen to get a program?"

"No."

"Hm," the gentleman thought for a brief moment. "Did you know that music can tell stories?"

Alfred shook his head.

"Well, this particular piece told a story_._ It tells of a great man, although this man doesn't think that he is great. He's caught between two worlds: the one he lives in during the day and the one he dreams about at night. The world he lives in is dark and lonely and filled with fear, but the one he dreams about is very much the opposite. That world is everything that he longs for. What he doesn't realize though is that this dream world is actually his reality. He just needs to accept it in order to get away from the darkness." Arthur picked up the instrument case and walked over to the sitting engineer. "What the great man picks though is completely up to the listener." He raised an eyebrow, "what do you think he chooses?"

It took a long moment, but Alfred made the connection of this story to himself. _He_ was the musician's inspiration. _He_ was this 'great man.' The story fit with his own.

The engineer remained silent, contemplating his answer before speaking. "I think this 'great man' would be skeptical at first. This new reality that he should accept is probably still mixed with dreams, so why go after what you can't clearly define as reality when the cold, hard ground is beneath you to remind you of the truth?" He looked at Arthur, "dreams are nice, but that's all they are. To accept something that may be false in the end is taking a big leap of faith, but, when you're already on the bottom, there's no way to go but up. Why not give it a try anyway? There isn't much to lose."

Arthur started to smile, "I'd like to think that he'd take that leap of faith. I'm sure he'd get used to that dream-like feeling. I imagine that's what love feels like."

Alfred caught the slip of the word love, but didn't comment on it. He didn't have time to, for Arthur was talking again.

"Stay with me tonight, will you?" the musician placed a hand on the engineer's shoulder, smiling bashfully down at him. His eyes darted to the suit that he was wearing, and his fingers began to ghost over the material. "As nice of a suit that this is, I'd much rather see it off you."

* * *

That suit became a decoration on the floor of Arthur's apartment, along with all the other garments the men had flung from their bodies on their way to the bedroom. There were better activities to be getting too.

However, once they made it into the bedroom, the gentleman made an immediate turn for the bathroom. Alfred raised an eyebrow, but continued to follow the other man. When he saw him beginning to prepare a warm bath, he got the picture and leaned against the doorframe. Seeing how both men were in the nude, he had a good view of Arthur's backside as he bent over the tub.

Once the water was warm enough, the musician slowly got in first before beckoning the engineer to join him.

Alfred moved off the doorframe and got into the tub slowly, but Arthur directed him to turn his back to him. Despite wondering why, he did what was asked. With his back to the other man, he had to glance over his shoulder to see him.

Arthur was smiling at him, and he brought his talented hands up to rub at the broad shoulders.

The more he rubbed, the more relaxed Alfred started to feel. He had been expecting sex, mostly because as they entered the apartment they were exchanging sloppy kisses and ripping off clothing pieces, but this was nice too. He wasn't going to complain about having a back rub.

"Alfred?"

The engineer broke from his tranquil thoughts, and he gave Arthur a grunt for a response so he'd know he was listening.

"I know that this may seem sudden, but will you move in with me?"


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter specific warnings: **Personality change, deformations, Electro Bolt use, tragedy

**Author's Notes: **This is not the final chapter. There's one more coming, and it'll be posted next Friday as usual.

The cover image I own, and can be found on my DeviantART page. There's a link on my profile.

Thanks for reading.

* * *

Alfred still couldn't get used to this.

He'd been living in Olympus Heights with Arthur for a month and a half now, and yet it felt like he was dreaming. He'd wake in the middle of the night, expect to see his shoddy apartment, and then wait to hear an argument from one of the families he shared rent with. By that point it would finally occur to him that he wasn't there anymore. He was in a nice apartment with an even nicer man, and he didn't have to share.

He still had a hard time wrapping his brain around why the musician wanted him to move in to begin with. They hadn't known each other for very long, and he was a damaged individual. Rapture had torn him apart, but it seemed that Arthur liked the challenge of trying to put him back together.

Life with the musician was pleasant, and overall Alfred's mood had lifted considerably.

Over the time that had passed though, Alfred's ADAM consumption had grown worse. It was only a matter of time before it started to escalate, and especially with how addictive the liquid could be.

Living with Arthur meant that he no longer worked as an engineer or mechanic, so the Plasmid he used was useless. His addiction was now merely just an addiction, and he couldn't use his job as an excuse anymore.

Arthur seemed to notice that his intake was increasing, and that slowly, each day that passed, the ex-engineer grew more irritable. He was still the loving man that Arthur had fallen in love with, but it was easy to see the change starting to happen. Even Alfred noticed to some extent, but that awareness began to fade with the rest of him.

It wasn't until another month had passed that things took a sharp turn for the worse.

Arthur had been pushing Alfred to find a job, probably hoping that he'd find something in the shopping district just to keep his hands busy and his mind away from shooting up his next fix. He worked for Francis Bonnefoy when he initially moved in with Arthur, but that was only for a couple of weeks to pay off the clothes the tailor had given him. He was supposed to be finding a job that would last, and, although he did try at first, the motivation slowly died away. The ex-engineer began to push it off instead, and gave the excuse that he was looking but no one wanted him.

Arthur appeared to buy the reason the first few times Alfred used it, but, when he started to notice a pattern and missing money from his savings, the freeloading was over.

When Arthur returned home after a rehearsal at the theater one evening, he seemed to have finally had enough. Normally he would have said something to announce that he was home, but there was nothing tonight except for the sliding of the automatic door as it opened and closed. Alfred heard footsteps too, but ignored them. He was too busy injecting himself with his newest fix to give a damn.

He felt like he was floating when the fluid was surging through his veins. His vision would blur and his body would become lighter. It was a great feeling that came with a great cost, but to a splicer like Alfred it was well worth it.

"I thought you had used the last of that stuff yesterday?"

Alfred jumped, startled out of his world of indulgence, and turned to look at the musician. He removed the syringe with a shaky hand and tossed it into his toolbox that lay open at his feet. He started to laugh, sounding groggy from the drug's effects, as he leaned back into the cushions. "Yeah, well I got some more."

"You told me that you'd stop," Arthur frowned, clearly disappointed.

"And you believed me?" Alfred shook his head, standing up from the sofa after a minute of letting the fluid kick in and the effects wear off. He kicked his toolbox away and rubbed at his hands as he stood there, wavering a little, and thinking about something.

The deformities that once only webbed over his left arm now covered more of his body. He had growths beginning at a slow pace, looking like his skin was either melting or growing, and blue veins popped and spread like a spider's handiwork over his arms. Some were visible even on his neck. Patches of his skin were also red and bumpy, and resembled a grotesque rash that splotched various portions of his body.

"Alfred, listen to me," the musician stepped around the couch and closer to the ex-engineer, placing his hands on the arm that was closest to him.

Alfred jerked away from him though, and spun on the heels of his boots to face the other man. "Don't touch me." His eyes were cold and unfamiliar, and his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

Despite looking frightened, Arthur still attempted to hold his ground and put up a fight. "What the hell happened to you, Alfred? You used to be sweet, and loving. Then you started taking more of that crap and look at you," the gentleman gestured to all of the ex-engineer, "you're turning out like everyone else who starts injecting that stuff into their body."

Alfred didn't want to hear this. He knew that he was turning out like everyone else, but he was too far gone to care anymore and it was too late to turn around. He started to shake his head, "shut up."

Arthur clenched his own hands into fists, "do not tell me to shut up, Alfred. You had better start being careful how you step from now on. You're walking on thin ice." The musician turned away from the argument, but, before he could leave, Alfred took a hold of his wrist.

"And you don't tell me what to do, Arthur."

"I'll tell you whatever I want when you're acting like an ass," the gentleman spat, turning only to give an angry glare.

Alfred tightened his grip on the smaller man's wrist, his teeth gritting together. He partially wanted to snap the frail bones that made up the musicians wrist just so he would get the point across that he wouldn't accept being told what to do. He wouldn't be able to play his violin then, and his career would surely be on hold if not over all together.

Then he wouldn't be making any money, and if Arthur wasn't making any money then Alfred wouldn't be getting his fix. It was a lose-lose.

"Let go of me. You're squeezing too hard, Alfred," the musician attempted to pull free, but he only caused himself more discomfort. The ex-engineer could hear the panicked edge to his voice.

"I thought I told you to shut up? And to not tell me what to do?" Alfred ground out.

"And I thought I told you not—"

But Arthur was cut short by a sudden jolt of electricity coursing through his body. It continued to run through his blood and bones, causing him to convulse, until he fell limp to the floor. He lay there unmoving, eyes open and staring blankly at the ceiling.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Specific Warnings: **Sad themes, mood swings

**Author's Notes: **This is the final chapter of the story. I'd like to thank those of you who have read it, and those of you who have stuck with it until the end.

The cover image belongs to me, and can be found on my DeviantART page. There's a link to it on my profile.

I'd also like to give a friendly reminder not to be shy when it comes to leaving reviews. I'd like to know what you folks thought of this story, so perhaps I could revise and make it even better with your feedback.

Thank you for reading, and enjoy the final chapter.

* * *

_Rapture – 1968_

The door opened and closed as the man walked inside. He dropped a bag down by the door before he made his way through the dark hallways of the apartment. The lighting inside worked fine, but there was no point in wasting it when it wasn't needed. He knew this place inside and out.

He stopped in the doorway of the bedroom with a crooked smile on his disfigured face.

He was once a handsome man, but the long years of Plasmid consumption had scarred his image considerably. He still _resembled_ the man he used to be, but he wasn't that man inside any more. The bolts and screws keeping his head planted firmly on his shoulders had long since become stripped, and there wasn't anyone there to keep tightening them.

"I'm home. I had a hard time finding supplies this go around. Things are becoming scarce. It's getting scary out there too, but it's always been scary out there." The man took steps closer to the bed, which was up against the far wall of the room, until he was close enough to sit down. The bedding was dusty, but he didn't seem to mind. "What, have nothing to say for once?" He sent an accusing glare toward the body on the bed, and his voice rose along with his anger level. After a minute that look softened. The scowl on his face turned into a frown, and he hung his head in shame. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to raise my voice. I don't want to be mad at you."

He started to laugh then, and his expression became thoughtful. Mood swings were a common occurrence. "I always miss you when I go out, you know? I'm afraid I won't come back. I don't want to die out there. Not alone. Not without you." He reached out a hand, touching the still frame of the dead man on the bed. It had been nineteen years since he died, and all that time Alfred had taken care of him.

The spliced man stood and walked around to the other side of the bed. He laid down beside his love, and rolled onto his side to face him. He created a dip in the mattress, but it was a familiar dip. He made sure the blankets were covering the other man before he settled comfortably and smiled.

"Good night, Arthur."


End file.
